


Someone You Loved

by khalisey



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Heartbreak, Mentions of Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:15:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25647175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/khalisey/pseuds/khalisey
Summary: Y/N knows she’s the reason why she and Dean split but it doesn’t stop the pain from hurting any less.
Relationships: Dean Winchester & You, Dean Winchester/You
Kudos: 26





	Someone You Loved

**Author's Note:**

> Rewrite from an old fic in another fandom and brought back to life with some inspiration from “Someone You Loved” by Lewis Capaldi.

No matter how much time had passed or days spent convincing yourself you had moved on, there was still a part deep inside your heart that discoloured with every mention of his name until it finally withered away and died. You relived the day he left over and over again on a continuous loop, each painstaking moment playing out like a macabre silent movie. You hadn’t protested when he packed his bags. You hadn’t clutched desperately at his hand, begging him to stay. You hadn’t wept as you watched him leave. You hadn’t done much of anything. You stood there numb. A mass of emptiness - vast and absolute before plunging into a pit of despair so everlasting that all you could see, no matter where you looked, was darkness. 

Dean Winchester had taken your light.

You can’t even remember the technicalities of the break-up. A messy painting in your head already smudged at the corners and slowly blurring the further it reaches the centre. Being a hunter is hard and trying to maintain a relationship alongside it is even harder - that much you do remember. But hadn’t that been what you’d both signed up for? The harder something was, the sweeter the reward. But when complications began to arise, you found yourself closing off, shutting down which then cultivated in you reaching for a bottle instead of Dean.

You manage to hide your pain well - the image of sunshine whenever you find yourself in his company. A smile so forced and fake plastered across your face you’re surprised he doesn’t notice. But why would he? The act you put on is so convincing it even has you fooled sometimes. Catching a glimpse of your reflection in a mirror or a window, you have to do a double take. Who’s the smiling woman staring back at you?

You ache every time he comes to say goodbye, hugging you with such tenderness, you wonder if he realises just how fragile you’ve become. But as you watch him embrace everyone else with the same gentle touch, you realise it’s all in your head. You’re nothing more than the past to Dean now.

He plagues your dreams, twisting them into nightmares and before long those images haunt you when you’re awake. It’s hard to focus on what’s real and what isn’t.

Dean is everywhere you turn.

You start to drink again to sideline it. The alcohol takes away the agony, replacing it with a sense of serenity and you know as soon as the liquor wears off, you’ll be crushed under the weight of your own woe but it doesn’t stop you. You turn up to hunts half-cut most days, forced to the nearest motel by fellow hunters because you’re too drunk to function properly, let alone be trusted to aim your gun at the monster you came to slay. They don’t understand that you need it just to function. Without it, you’re a shell - a hollow mass of skin and bone. No purpose, no reason to get out of bed in the morning except to consume as much of anything you can get your hands on.

You’re so past the point of realising why you plunged yourself into this pit in the first place that whenever you saw Dean amongst mutual friends, you barely understand why he looks so concerned. The pain of losing him has you so numb that you don’t feel anything anymore. It’s more than just drinking to forget him, you’re drinking because you can’t stop. On the rare day of clarity, you long to call Dean for help but as soon as your fingers reach for your cell, you recoil knowing you’re no longer his problem and neither is your alcohol addiction.

Resting your elbow on the edge of the bar, you wave to the overweight guy signalling for another drink. You can no longer taste whatever you’re ordering - it’s just amber liquid burning your throat as you neck them one after the other. You barely let the glass touch the mahogany as he hands the drink over, snatching it up and pour it into your open mouth, relishing in the cloud of painless euphoria washing over you. 

Normally you drink at your apartment when you’re home or in the secrecy of the motel you’re staying in. A small place of solitude, where nobody will judge or criticise for the amount you’re consuming but tonight there was no time to waste trying to find the nearest 7-11 to buy the cheapest, nastiest booze you can stomach and then fantasise about driving into oncoming traffic. This bar was close and convenient for what you need it for and thankfully, you’re so far removed from anybody who might recognise you from the weeks’ interviews. 

You’ve just asked for another when your cell vibrates next to you, forgetting you’d put it there when you sat down. 

_I hope you’re alright? You disappeared before I could say hey._

Dean. 

You just had to escape. 

A small celebration was being held for a fellow hunter’s birthday - a light, casual affair with only a few others when he showed up, a strange petite blonde in tow. You didn’t want to assume anything but the way he draped his arm around her shoulders, smiling into her hair as she giggled, you knew you were witnessing the answer to a question you really didn’t want to ask. 

It hurt. Like someone had stabbed you in the chest. A knot of pain swimming through your heart into each chamber, spiralling out into the mass of arteries making sure the ache got worse the further it travelled. Soon your entire body was trembling from it, your heart at the bloody epicentre. You couldn’t handle seeing him so vibrant and full of life when you were slowly falling deeper into a hole of despondency. You wanted him to know that it had broken you but what could he do? He wasn’t likely to come running back into your arms, letting your lethargic attempts to ruin your life just wash under the carpet. 

Dean had moved on. 

Picking up your cell awkwardly, you almost drop it before managing to type a clumsy reply. 

_I’m fine, just not feeling well. Nothing to worry about._

It’s not long before he replies. Almost as if he was sat waiting for it.

_K but I am worried. You’ve been acting really strange lately, sure there’s nothing wrong?_

Eyes prickling hot with tears, you let your cell fall onto the bar with a loud clatter and clutch your head between your hands, trying with every might not to cry.

“Fuck Dean, please just leave me alone.” You muffle into your palms. 

“Not a chance.”

The words sound like they’re coming from half a room away but the longer you sit here, you realise the deep husky voice is coming from right behind you. Your heart contracts painfully inside your chest, hammering against your rib cage as you attempt to swallow down your nausea. You don’t want to turn around. You can’t turn around. Facing him means you’ll break and you’ve done so well the past six months to not let him see just how fractured you are.

You feel his presence slide onto the bar stool next to you as you take a deep breath, downing the rest of the dark liquid in your glass. You need more. 

“What are you doing here?” You ask quietly, eyes on the wall in front of you. 

How can you look at him when you’re in this state? He’d see the popped blood vessels in the whites of your eyes, the purplish bruises underneath them from lack of sleep, the greying hue of your skin.

You’d be able to see the tiny flecks of gold in his eyes, the smattering of hair growing back across his jaw, hear the slight sound of his steady breathing, inhale the smell of his aftershave. 

“Same reason you are.” He mutters in reply, signalling for a drink.

“Why do you need to drown your feelings?” You stare down at the glass between your fingers. You don’t even try to fake a smile.

“You’re not the only one who’s suffering.” 

You angle your head ever so slightly to be able to see Dean’s face even from the corner of your eye and from this position, it still hurts. The bartender places Dean’s drink on the bar in front of him but he doesn’t hurry to pick it up. You wouldn’t have even let yours touch the wooden surface. You look down at your empty glass and glance back at Dean’s, debate swiping his full one from him.

Fuck. You have a serious problem. 

“Got another impending apocalypse to prevent?” You hiss under your breath. You don’t have the energy to be amicable any more.

Dean lets out a giant sigh. You can tell he’s already done with your shit. “If by apocalypse you mean you then yeah.” 

“Dunno what you mean,” you whisper, eyes still on the bead of liquid in the base of your glass, the tiny droplets glistening under the bar’s harsh lighting. “I’m holding myself together quite nicely.”

“Sure as fuckin’ hell doesn’t look like it to me.” 

From the corner of your eye, you watch him turn his head to face you. You feel anger rise up from within you, heat spreading into your face, making scarlet flush your cheeks. Bile knots in your tummy, all that alcohol on an empty stomach was not a good idea. You finally dare yourself to look at him and turn your head side wards, tears already biting at your sockets as you make eye contact. His hazel eyes widen at the sight of you.

“Don’t fuckin’ lecture me Dean, you gave up that right the day you walked out.” You slur, deciding to attempt to reach for his glass. He’s faster than you, holding it aloft out of your reach and you huff in frustration. 

“I only walked out because you asked me to.” His voice is uneasily calm. It scares you when he doesn’t raise his voice.

“Don’t blame this on me—“

Dean quickly cuts you off. “You were so adamant that it was best for us to be apart and you were so good at convincing yourself that I began to believe it too. It didn’t mean I actually wanted to leave you.” 

His words bite into you like sharp teeth. You know he’s right but you’re too stubborn to admit it. “But you still left.” 

“If I didn’t walk away you would have. I did what I thought you wanted.” 

Tears spill down your cheek. “I only ever wanted you.”

Dean places the glass back onto the bar and slides it towards you. You lift it to your lips and guzzle down the liquid. Shit, you’re really more of a mess than you thought.

“Yet you still pushed me away,” you can almost hear the anguish in his voice. “Look at you Y/N, you’re killing yourself. I can’t watch you do this.”

“Well you don’t have to, I’m not your problem anymore remember?” You stumble to your feet but Dean grabs your wrist to stop you from leaving. You stare down at him, his hazel eyes glowing gold as they glass over.

“But what if I still want you to be?”


End file.
